


Because I Knew You

by Anonymous



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And his beasts will protect him from anything, Gen, Newt is a precious cinnamon roll, Occamy, nundu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 03:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8732809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Five times Newt saved one of his creatures, and one time his creatures saved him.





	1. Protective

**Author's Note:**

> For this prompt at the kink meme: http://fantasticbeasts-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/459.html?thread=224971#cmt224971
> 
> Hopefully this will get fully finished and posted tonight, at worst tomorrow night.
> 
> This is my third fill, others being "Would You Stay" and "Five Times They Weren't, and One Time They Totally Were". Someone stop me plz.
> 
> \- Story

In the opinion of one particular Bowtruckle, being a Bowtruckle was a dull life indeed.

 

Most Bowtruckles clung to their home tree much like a baby bird to the nest. The home tree meant safety, it meant the company of other Bowtruckles, it meant food and shelter; it provided everything that the world outside the branches did not. As the Bowtruckle looked up at the tangle of tree limbs, he saw the other Bowtruckles amongst the waving branches, slow moving, quietly chittering to each other.

 

Placid. Safe.

 

Boring.

 

Boring was a human concept. Deep down, the Bowtruckle knew he wasn’t supposed to want excitement, wasn’t supposed to want anything beyond a good meal of wood lice and a nap in the hollowed trunk of the home tree. And oh, how he tried to want nothing more. Life seemed like it would be so much easier if he wanted nothing more.

 

Yet often, he found himself reaching spindly twigs toward another tree’s branches, curious, yet knowing that beyond was loneliness. Beyond was death.

 

So he stayed in the home tree. He ate the wood lice, took naps in the hollow trunk. He didn’t fight back when the other Bowtruckles pushed him off a branch or poked him with crunchy autumn leaves to see him startle.

 

He didn’t expect excitement to come to them.

 

The home tree was deep in the wood, deep enough that humans rarely came by. It was easy enough to hear them clumsily tramping their way through the underbrush, easy enough to hide in the trunk or in the tallest branches. And though he often peered out at the humans curiously, they never saw him.

 

It was better that way. Humans were dangerous, magical and non-magical alike. The Bowtruckle didn’t need spoken words or writing to know that much; the scent of fear from the other Bowtruckles was enough to put the whole branch on edge.                    

 

But the human that came that day, this magical human, he was different. While he was nearly as loud moving as other humans- he took no care to sneak around or try to hide his presence- he noticed everything. He easily spotted the hiding Bowtruckles in the branches, and the corners of his lips turned up in what the Bowtruckle would come to know as a smile.

 

The other Bowtruckles tossed bark and tried to frighten off the human; the human, with his wavy red hair and curious green eyes, only put his hands up and backed away, speaking soothing, low words. When the Bowtruckles settled down, he stepped close enough to the tree to set a wooden bowl at the base of it before he turned and left.

 

The other Bowtruckles were fearful of the bowl. They were fearful of anything to do with humans. But this Bowtruckle, this odd Bowtruckle- he had seen something in the human’s eyes. A kindness. He would swear to it, had he known how.

 

He climbed down the trunk of the tree to inspect the bowl, and found it full nearly to the brim of fat wood lice. It took some convincing to get other Bowtruckles to come down, but that evening, they feasted.

 

The human returned the next day. He didn’t come very close to the tree; he sat down at the base of another tree nearby and pulled something white and flat from his coat. He also pulled out a feather, and as the Bowtruckle watched curiously, the human began to drag the bottom of the quill across the white surface. He occasionally looked up at the tree of Bowtruckles, working quietly enough that most of the tree’s inhabitants grudgingly ignored his presence.

 

The odd Bowtruckle wanted to see more. He climbed out on the closest branch, now able to see that the human was making dark lines on the white surface using the quill. When the human noticed he was being watched, he smiled again, and he turned the white surface toward the curious Bowtruckle.

 

“It’s you,” he said simply, and indeed it was. The human had drawn the branch and the clinging Bowtruckles in the same way a Bowtruckle might idly carve tiny designs into tree bark, and the odd Bowtruckle felt a rush of excitement go through him. This was different, this was new.

 

But the human didn’t stay. He eventually packed up his things and left- but not without leaving behind another wooden bowl of wood lice. It was considerably easier to get the other Bowtruckles to help fetch the food from the bowl this time.

 

During the night, the glow came.

 

The wind picked up, and it smelled wrong. There was an orange glow shining and flickering through the trees, growing brighter as it came closer.

 

And hotter. So much hotter.

 

Fire. The Bowtruckle had heard of fire, in a way, in scared cries from other Bowtruckles when distant smoke was seen. But this fire started at night, and it was too close. There was no warning smoke, no time to move from the home tree.

 

The whole tree was alive with the panicked chirping of Bowtruckles, frozen in fright. The crackling of the fire was growing all too close.

 

“Protego Maxima!”

 

The human’s voice broke through the ruckus of Bowtruckle and fire, and a different kind of light flooded the tree. The magical human stepped into view, close enough to the tree that the Bowtruckle could see the determined look on his face as a barrier of white light sprang up around the tree. The light seemed to come from the stick he was holding- a wand, it was called, the Bowtruckle knew that much- and immediately, the heat from the fire was gone.

 

“Sorry to invade your space, my friends, but I’m afraid if I don’t your tree won’t last long,” the human said, and though the Bowtruckle didn’t understand the words, not yet- he understood the feeling behind it. He knew, somehow, that the human only wanted to help, wanted to protect them.

 

And protect them he did. For hours the human stood firm by the tree, seeming to renew his spell and feed energy into the barrier as often as he could. The fire raged through the night, and eventually the human had to sit down against the base of the tree, clearly exhausted from his efforts. Even the magical light barrier was put to the test by the intense heat and the fury of the flames.

 

The odd Bowtruckle felt a wave of gratitude; this human had saved the home tree, saved all of them. He climbed down, ignoring the chirping protests from the other Bowtruckles, and he set himself down on the tired human’s shoulder. The human opened his eyes and tilted his head to see what had joined him, and he smiled when he saw the Bowtruckle.

 

“You’re a b-brave one, aren’t you?” he asked, the words a bit of a struggle as he kept up the barrier through the last cinders and gusty winds of the fire.

 

The Bowtruckle wanted to understand. He wanted to see the drawings that the human had made of his tree, wanted to see where he went when he left the Bowtruckles.

 

So when the human finally, shakily, let down the barrier and stood to leave, the Bowtruckle held firm. When the human tried to put the Bowtruckle back on the branch, it held firm to his fingers with the sharp twigs of its hands.

 

“I’m not sure you should stick with me. It’s a bit…dangerous,” the human said, but the Bowtruckle held firm with a disgruntled noise. The human laughed softly, and then drew his hand back, letting the Bowtruckle climb back onto his shoulder.

 

“If you’re that determined, then I suppose you can tag along. But you’ll need a name. I can’t just call you Bowtruckle,” he said, picking up the case that seemed ever present at his side. “How about Pickett?”

 

The Bowtruckle chittered softly, holding tight to the fabric of the human’s clothing. He looked back at the home tree, back at all he’d ever know, and at the fearful, shocked way the other Bowtruckles were looking on.

 

He expected to feel sad, in some way, but instead he could only think one thing; he didn’t need a home tree. He had a home human, one who was brave, courageous, and kind, more sturdy and dependable than any tree could be. He wanted to see more, and he was ready- ready to be ‘Pickett’ instead of just another Bowtruckle in the branches.


	2. Kind

The Demiguise was hard to catch. Nigh impossible. Or at least, he was supposed to be. So he wasn’t entirely prepared to be caught in a magical trap, a shining rope closing around one foot, tangling in his long hair painfully. He tried to bite it, but it hurt his teeth and made his head ring painfully.

 

His eyes glowed, and he saw himself trapped, unable to get free, and humans approaching with pride on their faces.

 

When the humans indeed showed up, loud and raucous, he tried to turn invisible. Unfortunately, it didn’t loosen the trap around his foot. He thrashed in a panic, and the humans laughed.

 

“We’re gonna make so much money off this one. Look how long its fur is!” one of them said, and though the Demiguise didn’t understand the words, the tone was filled with cruel glee. The Demiguise remembered seeing another of his kind, the long silver hair shorn down nearly to the skin; humans did it. He didn’t understand why, and right now, it didn’t matter.

 

He saw a brief vision, eyes glowing blue- grabbed, shoved into darkness, hurt, pain, pain.

 

One of the humans grabbed him painfully by the neck, ignoring the beast’s thrashing and cries for help, and then shoved the Demiguise into a thick bag. It cinched closed tight, and the Demiguise clawed at the thick enchanted fabric to no avail. His efforts only made the human shake the bag painfully hard.

 

Dark. Pain. Hurt. The Demiguise didn’t need its future sight to know what was coming; only more of the same.

 

When the bag finally opened and the Demiguise tumbled into the light, it immediately shifted to make itself invisible- but it didn’t matter. It had gone from bag to cage, and the door clanged shut with a finality that drew a whine from the long-haired beast.

 

For days, the cage was all it knew. In a dark corner of a dimly lit room, the Demiguise waited. Humans came and went, some grabbing at his fur through the bars to feel it, sometimes shoving a handful of limp, unappetizing leaves through the bars for him to eat.

 

He missed the open air. He missed the trees. All he could see with his future sight was more of this cage, more of this darkness. He usually liked it when things were predictable, but not today. Not this time.

 

So when something unexpected happened, it didn’t upset him as it normally would.

 

A human entered the room with the cruel humans, but this human was different; he held himself differently, his eyes immediately drawn to the small cage, and when the Demiguise tried to use his future sight, it seemed to stall.

 

This human wasn’t like the others. The Demiguise could tell, because he didn’t know what this human was going to do.

 

“It’s gotten a little dull the past couple of days, but it’ll shine right back up with some more of those plant things it likes to eat,” one of the cruel humans was saying, the words nonsense to the Demiguise, but not the intent. The new human, the one with red hair and a soft voice, came to the side of the cage and knelt down.

 

He didn’t reach inside, didn’t grab for a handful of fur. The Demiguise didn’t have much experience being this close to humans, but he could have sworn that this one looked…sad.

 

His eyes glowed blue with future sight, and this time, he found a vision. A vision of the room lighting up with spells, and this human throwing open the cage door.

 

“Don’t worry. I’ll get you out of here,” the human said, and one of the other humans scowled.

 

“Are you talkin’ to that thing? It’s an animal,” he said, and the redheaded human sighed and stood up.

 

“It’s a living creature that deserves respect,” he said, turning to the cruel humans and pulling out his wand. “Petrificus Totalis!”

 

One of the cruel humans went stiff and dropped, and the other two pulled their wands. The room lit up with spells being flung- including an errant one that went toward the cage.

 

The Demiguise didn’t foresee his rescue, because he never would have expected a human to take a blow intended for him. But the redhead stepped in front of the cage, the spell slicing across his leg, nearly sending him to the floor as he stumbled and threw a spell back in return.

 

When the lights of the spells died down, the cruel humans were unconscious on the floor, and the kind human threw the cage door open. The Demiguise climbed out, but it paused next to the human who had saved it, a stain of blood on the cloth covering the human’s leg.

 

“I doubt if you use your sight that you’ll want to go out there. You’re in the thick of a city,” the human said, leaning back against the cage to take weight off the injured limb. “But if you’ll have a look into coming with me, I promise you’ll be safe until I get you back to China. Might…take a while, though. Not an easy trip, that one.”  


The human’s voice was strained with pain. The Demiguise’s eyes glowed, and it pictured running outside- only to find the probability being humans, lots of humans, none of them like this one.

 

He pictured going with this human, this kind one who had freed him, and he saw a welcoming embrace and a safe haven in a mysterious box.

 

He made his decision.

 

He leapt into the human’s arms, and was indeed met with a warm, welcoming embrace.

 

“I think I’ll call you Dougal.”


	3. Compassionate

The Niffler was in heaven.

 

He’d managed to squeeze his way into a wonderful place. Everything in here was shiny, sparkling, a feast for the eyes no matter where he looked. And sure, there were a good amount of wizards in the large room, but he’d avoided wizards before. He was fast, agile, despite his stocky build. He knew he could elude them.

 

He darted around feet, under displays filled with shining jewels on strings and metal bands, already picturing how the heaps of colorful stones would look when piled up in a nest. The thought was enough to make him rush up the side of a wooden counter and start grabbing jewels from the shelves, stuffing them into his pouch as quickly as he could.

 

He knew from experience that humans and wizards liked the shiny things too. They didn’t like the shiny things to be taken from them. And true, the Niffler wouldn’t like his shiny things taken from his nest, either.

 

But he wanted them more than the humans did. Deserved them more. He worked harder for them. The humans just handed them to each other, taken and given with no hassle. The Niffler took risks for the shiny things, so obviously he wanted them more and deserved them more. It was perfectly logical.

 

Besides, the humans never gave the Niffler shiny things. He wouldn’t have any at all if he didn’t take them. Humans were selfish, selfish things. They should learn to share.

 

All of this made perfect sense to the Niffler, and nothing could change his mind.

 

So it was without remorse that the Niffler shoved the ‘jewelry’ into his pouch. That was one thing humans had done right- cutting the jewels and hanging them on strings and bands so they were easier to grab and carry. So, humans could be useful sometimes. Occasionally.

 

Still weren’t as deserving as hard working Nifflers, though.

 

He’d almost finished the entire case when there was a shriek near him, and he knew he’d been spotted. He ran for it, leaping from case to case, and grabbing jewels as he went. He couldn’t help it. Some were just too shiny to pass up. He could picture them in a nest, the light shining on them, creating a kaleidoscope of colors-

 

-then something struck him, and he squeaked as he was thrown to the floor.

 

He had to keep moving. The humans would take his trinkets. He’d worked so hard for them!

 

A foot slammed onto the floor mere inches from him, and he crawled under a chair and went toward the window. Almost there. He could squeeze through the gap, and he would be free to go find a new nest, one near this place so he could come back-

 

A set of hands closed around him, and he flailed as a mean looking female human lifted him into the air. No matter how much he struggled, though, he couldn’t free himself.

 

“Give those back, you oversized rat!” the human practically screeched, shaking the Niffler. The Niffler knew what the human wanted- it wanted to steal away the trinkets, wanted to undo all that work-

 

No, no. The humans couldn’t have them. They didn’t deserve such shiny things.

 

“Just kill the thing,” another human said in a mutter, and the mean woman held onto the struggling Niffler with one hand, and raised her wand with the other.

 

“Wait!”

 

The voice was desperate enough to even catch the Niffler’s attention, and it squirmed to see the newcomer. A tall human, nothing shiny on him- but the coat was a nice blue. Bright.

 

Would have been better if it were shiny too, but it wouldn’t have fit in his pouch anyway.

 

“Don’t kill it. You do that, you’ll never get your jewelry back,” the human said, gesturing to the angry Niffler. “Here, let me try.”

 

The woman looked skeptical, but she held out the Niffler to the redheaded human. The Niffler struggled as he was passed to this new human, who immediately flipped him upside down.

 

No! He was going to steal away the trinkets!

 

“Come on, now. Those don’t belong to you, and you know it, “ the human said, his voice calm compared to the anger of the other humans. The Niffler whined and clutched at his pouch stubbornly, but the newcomer began to gently shake him, and the jewels started falling to the floor.

 

The Niffler struggled and whined, but it was no use. The human began to tickle him, and as he squeaked and twitched, the last of the trinkets fell to the pile on the ground.

 

“There. No need to kill the poor thing,” the human said, turning the angry Niffler upright- but upon seeing the furious looks on the other humans’ faces, the Niffler decided to just stay where he was for the moment. It seemed safer. This human wasn’t acting threatening or mad.

 

“Just get it out of here,” the woman snapped, and the wizard carried the Niffler out the door.

 

“Of all the places to ransack, you chose a jewelry store in the busiest wizard shopping center in England?” the wizard asked, but the Niffler only huffed irritably. He wanted his jewels back.

 

The human sighed, and then pulled something out of his pocket. “Here. This should entertain you until I get you somewhere safer,” he said, and when he opened his hand, there was a shiny coin in it- and as the Niffler watched, it changed colors and the shine went from solid to glittery.

 

The Niffler could have died happy. He had seen the face of the Niffler deity, and it was the shiniest thing in the world indeed. He grabbed at the shiny coin and clutched it close, and the human chuckled.

 

“Thought that might do it. Come on, you,” he said, setting down his brown suitcase and opening it up.

 

And well, when the human set the Niffler in a hollow tree trunk full of shiny things, the Niffler decided that maybe this wasn’t so bad a place to call home. And maybe not all humans were selfish and undeserving.

 

He still wasn’t giving the human any of his trinkets, though. He’d worked hard for them just by surviving that awful ordeal, after all.


	4. Clever

To say the Occamy was a protective parent would be putting it lightly. Anything that came near the nest was subject to the mother’s wrath, and this particular Occamy mother was no different. She had seven eggs in her nest, and creature and wizard alike knew better than to come too close to that nest.

 

There was only one wizard who didn’t seem intimidated by her threats; but this particular wizard also respected that space, and rarely got close enough for the Occamy to truly feel her eggs were threatened. He would sit a fair distance away, watching her look after the eggs, and he would write in a small book in his lap.

 

He was quiet, unobtrusive, and never pushed the invisible boundaries she set, so she let him stay- albeit while keeping a close eye on him. One could never truly trust a human, after all. She’d lost too many eggs over the years to greedy hands of wizards.

 

The next humans that came proved her right.

 

She was curled up on her eggs and resting when there was the bright flash of a wizard’s magic, and she took to the air with a hiss, looking toward the quiet wizard who’d become a strange, distant companion- but he looked as confused as the Occamy was. There was another burst of magic, and the quiet wizard stood up and ducked into the trees.

 

Coward, it seemed. The Occamy was ready to fight for her brood.

 

One blast of magic and then another hit the Occamy, stunning her and knocking her to the ground. Two humans came out of the trees and went straight for the nest, and she hissed and struggled helplessly as one of them reached in and picked up an egg.

 

Then, there was a low, mournful sounding wail in the distance.

 

“What was that?” one of the humans asked the other, looking around.

 

“Sounded like one of them dragons they had at the Quidditch match,” the other replied, and then the sound happened again, closer. The humans shifted nervously, and the Occamy could smell the fear on them.

 

“I ain’t gonna deal with no dragon! Let’s get out of here!” one said in a panic, and he took off running the way he’d come. The other human, the one holding the egg, seemed to hesitate- then there was that wail again, closer.

 

Something sounded off about it to the Occamy. It sounded somewhat like a dragon, but without the same depth to the call. But it fooled the human well enough; he turned and started to run-

 

-and dropped the egg as he did.

 

The Occamy screeched in protest, helpless to save her unborn child, but just before the egg hit the ground it suddenly slowed to a stop in midair. The quiet wizard stepped out of the trees, the tip of his wand glowing, and he looked to make sure the other humans were gone.

 

“I’m sorry they hurt you,” he said to the Occamy, approaching slowly. She could hear the regret in his voice. She realized then that it was this human who made those noises, this human who’d tricked the other humans into fleeing. She made a low, rumbling noise and looked to her egg, still safely floating.

 

“Don’t worry, mummy. I’ve got your baby here,” the wizard said, putting his wand away and taking the egg in his hands. Just as he did, the shell began to crack, and his breath seemed to catch as he looked between the injured Occamy and the egg.

 

A small, feathered blue head broke through the shell, and golden eyes focused on the wizard. The Occamy felt a wave of warmth from her newborn, a wave of recognition- even the baby somehow knew the wizard meant no harm.

 

The Occamy struggled to her feet, wings flapping as she recovered from the pain and shock, and the wizard looked up, wide-eyed.

 

“So sorry. I didn’t realize…I was just…” he stuttered as the baby Occamy curled around his hands and wrists almost playfully, pieces of eggshell falling to the ground.

 

The wizard’s attention was fully on the newborn creature in his hands, with no mind paid to the shining shell; normally, it was the other way around. Humans would toss the babies aside to get at the eggshell before it got too damaged.

 

The Occamy came to a decision, watching her infant daughter bond with the clever young wizard. She leaned down and nudged the baby closer to the wizard, who looked up in shock.

 

“You can’t mean…?”

 

The Occamy made a trilling noise, lifting her head. She meant it; her daughter would be safe with this strange, quiet wizard. She’d already bonded to him. If she were taken away now, she would be forever missing a part of herself.

 

The wizard seemed to understand. He nodded, looking down at the new life in his hands. “I’ll protect her. I promise,” he said.

 

The Occamy believed him. She’d finally found a human she could trust.


	5. Brave

The Nundu was used to being feared. He was used to wizards going wide-eyed, going thick with the scent of fear and panic, and then watching as they fled. The Nundu preferred it that way, as he had lived long enough to see many of the misdeeds of humans and wizards alike.

 

He lived in isolation in the wilds of Africa, and he was rarely bothered with the affairs of humans and their ilk. He lived out his days hunting prey, squabbling over territory with the Nundu who pressed in on his borders, and occasionally finding a mate. He was getting too old, though; too old to defend constantly against other, younger Nundu, too old to be as attractive of a mate.

 

He still had a long time to live, but his prime was over.

 

Perhaps he’d become too comfortable, too complacent. Perhaps that was why he missed the trap the human poachers had set.

 

It snapped shut on his front left leg, and he roared in pain and fury as the flesh tore and the bone shattered. His mane puffed out as he struggled, biting at the metal trap.

 

When the humans came to claim their prize, all they found was death as he breathed his poison breath on them. Only one managed to flee.

 

The day that followed was the longest, most painful day of the Nundu’s life. He couldn’t free himself from the trap, and he eventually exhausted himself in his efforts to do so. The sun rose and fell again as he lay in the grass, panting, his leg throbbing with a vicious pain, the bodies of the poachers all around him.

 

At least he had gotten vengeance on his attackers. He would die with some amount of dignity. He was old; perhaps this was his time.

 

He didn’t expect a human to come walking through the trees into the plain. He lifted his head and watched with a calculating look; the human was definitely walking in this direction. The Nundu felt the wind over his skin, knowing that the human was downwind; if he breathed out his poisonous breath, the newcomer would die nearly instantly.

 

But for some reason- perhaps because he was so secure in his ability to kill the man- he waited to see what the human would do.

 

The human stopped and whistled low at the sight of the decomposing bodies scattered around the Nundu. “Well…you’ve certainly made a mess of things, haven’t you?” the man said, and the Nundu snorted, understanding few of the words.

 

He was startled, though, when he realized that the smell of fear was unusually low for a human. Was this human not scared of him? Did the human not know what he was, or what he could do? Did the human think him helpless?

 

The human slowed as he came closer, and the Nundu growled in warning. He was torn between thinking this human was brazen or simply stupid; he breathed in, preparing to unleash the poison breath that had killed the poachers, but the human held up his hands.

 

“Hold on, hold on. I know you’re hurting. I’m here to help,” he said, and then he pointed to the trap. “Can I take that off you?”

 

The Nundu followed the human’s gesture to the metal trap, unsure if the human was really implying what it seemed he was.

 

Had he been younger, he would kill this young wizard and be done with it.

 

But he wasn’t young anymore. Pride took a backseat to curiosity, at least for the moment. He could always kill the human at any moment, should he choose to try anything stupid.

 

So he closed his mouth and waited, watching the wizard with a piercing, pained stare. The human took that for the very temporary permission that it was, and he moved forward slowly, and then set his case down and knelt beside the Nundu’s trapped paw.

 

The Nundu had never been this close to a human before- at least, not a human that he wasn’t actively killing. The wizard smiled at him, and though his scent swirled with hints of nervousness and fear, other emotions seemed stronger. Fascination. Caution. Respect, even.

 

“Let’s remove this thing, shall we?” the human said, and then he pulled his wand from his belt and aimed it. “Alohomora.”

 

The trap sprang open, and the Nundu jumped into action. He lunged forward, smacking the wizard down with his good paw even though his bad leg barely held his weight. He had his massive paw right on the wizard’s chest, his claws barely touching the delicate skin of the man’s neck, and while the scent of fear surged- it then settled.

 

“Okay. Alright, I know. You could easily kill me,” the wizard said, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “But if you would hold off a smidge, I could set and wrap that leg.”

 

The Nundu stared down at the human, his claws flexing- but he found that he couldn’t do it.

 

Something about this human struck him as…sacred. Something to be valued. Protected. Much like he would protect one of his own cubs.

 

He pulled his paw back, and the human let out a breath of relief, and then laughed. And even though the Nundu wasn’t entirely familiar with humans, he knew that for what it was- a laugh of relief, of celebration for still being alive after staring death in the face.

 

The wizard sat up, and then opened up his suitcase slowly. He gestured to it, raising an eyebrow at the massive predator. “Come inside. I can help you- and after you’re better, you can leave if you want.”

 

A tiny green stick of an animal poked its head out of the case, squeaked in fear when it saw the Nundu, and ducked back inside. As the Nundu peered into the case, he could smell the emotions heavy in the air- contentment. Happiness.

 

Home.

 

The Nundu yawned, and then limped his way down into the case. His reign here was over; it was time for something new.


	6. +1: Devoted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and thanks for the excellent prompt! <3

Newt never gave much thought to how he might die. He heard the guesses often enough from other wizards who thought him mad; they said that one of his beasts would surely kill him. That his own insanity in carrying around a case of creatures would be his downfall.

 

Newt knew that if he was killed by one of his own creatures, he would have done something to deserve it. Animals didn’t act out for no reason at all; if he got killed by a beast, it would be because he’d made a mistake.

 

But none of that applied now. He had the feeling he was about to die, and it certainly wasn’t to a beast.

 

“Out! Go, go!” he shouted as he opened up another cage, the smoke beginning to get thick in the air. The Jarveys in the cage made a run for it, disappearing into the smoky hallway. Newt coughed and looked to make sure that was indeed the last cage, and that he’d freed all the animals.

 

He’d know that traffickers had set up this old, massive house as a holding center for the animals they were transporting. He only planned to come and sneak in and stake out the place, take note of the animals to make a plan to get them out.

 

He hadn’t expected to be caught. He certainly hadn’t expected a trap; he was unaware that he had that kind of reputation, that people wanted him dead for interfering in their trafficking.

 

He hadn’t expected them to use his love for these creatures against him.

 

They’d rigged the building to catch fire as soon as he was inside- and this wasn’t the kind of fire he could put out or shield against. The blue flames were magical, and would spread until they hit the borders of the cursed area. But as easy as it would be to run out the door, Newt couldn’t do it until he knew that all the animals were safe.

 

The problem now was that the animals were safe, and Newt was anything but.

 

He coughed and tried to duck low as he walked down the hall toward the exit; his eyes and throat were burning from the smoke, and he was beginning to get dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

 

He kept one hand covering Pickett, keeping the worst of the smoke from him. He was nearly to the door- just one more hallway-

 

-and then there was a massive crash, and something struck Newt to the ground.

 

He was too dazed and in pain at first to realize what happened. He tried to move, and found that there was a heavy weight across his lower legs and his back. Wooden beams had fallen from the ceiling.

 

He was trapped, and his wand had been knocked from his hand, lost somewhere in the debris.

 

He coughed as breathing earned him more smoke than air, and the coughing made the pain triple. He cringed and tugged Pickett from his coat, pushing him away.

 

“Go, Pickett! Outside!” he said, trying to sound firm. At least his case would be alright; if it sat still for too long, it would set off an alert straight to Dumbledore that something had gone wrong. Dumbledore was the only person he would trust with that case if he…

 

Well. If he died. Which seemed more and more likely with each passing moment.

 

Pickett clung to his hand, the tiny creature shaking his head in refusal. Newt’s vision was starting to blur, his lungs aching as he gasped for breath.

 

“Pickett, p-please…go,” he pleaded, and his eyes were stinging from more than the smoke now. But Pickett didn’t move toward the exit- instead, the creature stubbornly sat down against Newt’s hand.

 

Newt had a sudden moment of realization- a memory of himself, sitting against the base of a tree, using the last of his strength to hold back a fire from a branch of Bowtruckles.

 

He let out a sob, the sound choked. His head was pounding, the heat was intense, the pain overwhelming.

 

“P-Pickett,” he started, a last ditch effort to convince his friend not to do this, not to die with him, but he couldn’t get any more words out. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, and his vision started to fade.

 

Then, a roar filled the air, loud even over the sound of the fire. A shape came into view, blurry and indistinct; Newt was only half conscious by the time his Nundu trotted up to his side.

 

The Nundu immediately pushed its way under the beams, and with a massive show of strength, it shoved upward and pushed the beams away. A streak of blue joined it- the Nundu shoved its head under Newt’s left arm, and the Occamy under his right, and the two of them dragged the half-conscious wizard to the door. They managed to get him out onto the grass and past the cursed ground, and Newt took in deep gasps of the clean air, trembling and fighting to stay conscious as they lowered him back to the ground.

 

He struggled to turn over onto his back, and then he felt a nudge at his hand. He managed to lift his head and look down, only to find his Niffler pushing his soot-stained wand into his hand.

 

He laughed with relief, with gratitude, and took in shaky breaths as he wiped the tears from his cheeks. “Thank you,” he managed to his creatures, his voice hoarse as he fought to sit up, though it wasn’t without a wince. His back ached horribly, but not as bad as his legs, where his pants were torn and bloodied below the knees from the wooden beam.

 

The suitcase beside him creaked open, and Dougal the Demiguise emerged- holding the emergency first aid kit that Newt kept on hand for his creatures. Pickett was still clinging to his wrist, unwilling to budge even an inch.

 

He lifted his head to the other four creatures around him, and he couldn’t keep the smile off his face, because they had saved him- he couldn’t even be mad they’d forced their way out of the case.

 

“Looks like we’re even, my friends,” he said, his voice still rough from the smoke. He was glad it wasn’t his chest or arms that were injured- because the next thing he knew, the Nundu was pressing its face up against his chest and purring loud enough that he felt it in his bones, the Occamy was curling her tail around one arm, and Dougal was clinging to the other arm.

 

And the Niffler- it shuffled a bit on its back feet, and then pulled a familiar coin from its pouch and held it out to Newt, the color shifting and changing in the flickering light of the fire.

 

“I love you too,” Newt said with a laugh, resigning himself to an extended cuddle pile before he would get any bandaging done.

 

That was okay with him; this moment alone was worth every ounce of pain and struggle that got him here.

 


End file.
